


When I was Young

by allfandoms93



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, SMUTTY SMUT, Slow Burn, nothing happens till she's 16, years span
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 13:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30005358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allfandoms93/pseuds/allfandoms93
Summary: Sansa's life is difficult. It gets complicated when a visitor comes to call at night.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane & Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 81





	1. The Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Readers! I know the show is long over and this really takes place in Season 1 but here I am, still thinking up stories for these two and this one was pesky enough to get me to actually finish it. I am proud of this story but I am aware there is a major plot hole and all I ask is you use that pesky suspension of disbelief and just go with it. No way Sandor would have gotten away with this without being seen but just go with it cause this is fanfiction and is supposed to be fun.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa meets the Hound

Sansa had always feared the Hound even before she knew him. As her family prepared to welcome the king and his family, she had heard the tittering’s of the servants about the prince's bodyguard; a horrid man inside and out. She hadn't gotten many details, just that he was not a knight and he killed for pleasure. It was not hard to spot him as the king's company marched into Winterfell. She stood straight, rolling her eyes as Arya simply could not remain still, her family bracketing her on both sides. She was looking forward to meeting Joffrey, and she hoped he was as handsome and elegant as she had heard but when she saw HIM, her thoughts of Joffrey momentarily disappeared. He rode a huge black stallion, larger than any other horse. It did not look like a friendly horse, its head down and not looking around like the others; not curious in the least. Its rider was similar, sitting ramrod straight with his eyes forward, not flinching. She couldn't see his face; it was marred by a horrible hound helmet. He was menacing even without his face though, he was a large man. Taller and bigger than any other in their company and even with his armor on, she knew he could break her in two without breaking a sweat. She hoped Joffrey knew how to get away from him when they finally got to talk, she did not want to see him if she could help it.

The king appeared and they all said their hellos, Sansa smiled and bowed demurely, making eyes at Joffrey as was her duty. He was handsome, just as she had been told. So why were her eyes continually darting to the large man who had dismounted as the company had come to a stop? He had pulled his helmet off, holding it at his side with the snarling mouth still facing toward her. She felt like it was staring at her or maybe that was just its owner. The man was as horrid as she had heard. Half his face was gone, marred with hideous burn scars. His dark brown eyes were mean and his long hair fell everywhere as if it had never been brushed. His mouth turned down in a snarl as his eyes roamed. She had been sneaking a glance when his eyes had stopped on her.

He must have known she was looking because his eyes were roaming the opposite way when suddenly they flicked to her. Or had his eyes been flicking to her like hers kept flicking to him? Their eyes met and Sansa's heart stopped. There was something menacing in his eyes but also something deeper, though she couldn't begin to understand what. Her eyes flicked away quickly and she did her best not to look at him again.

She lay in her bed that night smiling, Joffrey had spent the entire day with her and he was just as charming as she had hoped. She held in a squeal, she was going to marry him, she knew it! And she would be queen, just like Cersei. Sansa's mind skipped everywhere as she tried her best to ignore the shadow that was in the background of all of her memories today. Why was the Hound so horrifying? Why did she feel like he had been staring at her all day?

Suddenly, her doors opened and she sat up with a gasp. When she had been younger, Arya used to sneak into her room and they would giggle and stay up all night. That was before, before she had decided to be a lady and do her duty and Arya had decided to do the exact opposite.

"Arya?" she whispered into the darkness.

All she heard in response was a deep, dark laugh. Sansa's whole body turned cold and she was about to scream when her bed dipped and someone gripped her hair, yanking her head back. She felt something cold and sharp against the skin of her neck and she became completely still.

"I won't hurt you." The voice was deep and gravelly, an adult male but she didn't know who. She didn't think she had ever heard this voice before, "You won't scream. You won't fight. You won't ever tell anyone and you will remain intact. Do you understand?"

No! No, she did not understand! What was happening? Who was this? How did he get in? What did he want? Sansa nodded just barely as tears rolled down her cheeks. The knife disappeared, as did the hand in her hair and the bed shifted again. She could feel that he was still on the bed but he had changed position. Was he lying down?

"Lie down, girl." his rough voice made her jump.

Shaking, Sansa laid on her back, her body completely taught.

Nothing happened. Sansa listened to his rough breathing even out. He was asleep? Should she run or yell now? But, he hadn't done anything.

Sansa stayed awake all night; until just the first wisps of dawn appeared outside her window. She could see him now. The Hound. It was the Hound! Asleep and lying next to her in plain clothes. She had been right; he was by far the largest man she had ever seen. He lay on his side, the burned part of his face all that was visible. He was horrifying to look at.

She stared, wide eyed as he rolled, wiping his eyes and looking around. He glanced at her before grunting and standing. She refused to look below his face. She didn't know if he wore pants.

"Remember the rules." He growled as he turned without looking at her and spun a blade in his hand.

Sansa was in a state of shock through breakfast. Her maids had come in this morning and hadn't known anything. Her mother, Arya and Robb all asked her what was wrong but she shrugged and looked away. She didn't tell. She didn't know why but she didn't. She saw him, always standing guard behind Joffrey. She never saw him look at her but she swore she felt it sometimes. What did he want? Why had he slept in her bed last night? Would he return tonight? The horror rolled through her stomach. At least she thought it was horror. But he hadn't done anything, should she be scared?

He didn't come that night. She stayed awake half the night before finally relaxing into sleep.

When she went to breakfast the next day, she suddenly understood. Another guard, she hadn't learned his name but he was shorter, fatter and gave her lascivious looks that made her skin crawl, stood behind Joffrey. The Hound must have been on guard through the night. Of course, he had different duties on different days.

She lit a candle that night. She wanted to see if he came and she hoped the fire may scare him. When the night had gotten dark and Winterfell was silent, Sansa began to nod off to sleep. Maybe it was a dream but just as she was on the brink of sleep, her door creaked. She lay on her side, facing away from the door. She cursed herself inwardly, torn between turning to see him and staying frozen. She heard him huff and the candle went out. Sansa stiffened.

He didn't speak as he climbed into bed behind her, throwing an arm around her stomach gently. She flinched but didn't move. He didn't move either.

His breathing evened out and she focused on the hand on her side. His hand was massive, nearly spanning from her ribs to her hip and it was hot! Past the point of warm and she didn't know how he walked around that hot all day.

After a few breaths, she reached for the hand, his skin was rough but not so rough it was repulsive, interesting. She felt hair, coarse and sparring, she felt the veins, soft even over the rough skin, but mostly, she felt the strength. She took a deep breath and attempted to shove the hand away. It didn’t move. She felt anger and at her next attempt she let out a grunt.

His chuckle was deep and it ran through her like ice. She felt his breath on her neck and froze, her hand still atop his, “Leave it, Little Bird. It’s just a hand. That’s all.”

She was exhausted from her three nights of bad sleep and she was frustrated by her own lack of understanding. She snapped, “Why are you here!?”

He was quiet for a moment, she wondered if she had surprised him. Finally he seemed to readjust or maybe he shrugged, “I don’t know.” His voice was nearly a whisper.

Sansa surprised herself by falling asleep. When she awoke, he was gone.

She was surprised to find that they had fell into a routine. She never looked at him during the day nor at night but he was always there. By day he shadowed Joffrey and by extension her, as they were often together. And every other night, he’d find his way to her bed. He never did anything. His hand rested on her side but his besides that they did not touch. And they slept. Sansa was loathe to admit that on the nights he did not come, she found that she had to fold up a blanket or pillow and lay it on her side to mimic his weight in order to sleep. It was all very confusing.

But it didn’t matter, because they were traveling to Kings Landing in two days’ time and she would be in a tent with Arya. He could not be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	2. The Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa becomes a woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter

The trip to King’s Landing began to show Sansa what was lurking beneath the pretty polished surface of royalty. She began to feel as though she were really among lions. Her beloved dire wolf was dead and by the time she was assigned a room alone in the castle in King’s Landing, she almost hoped for the Hound to appear. At least he would be some protection.

As she lay down in her new bed, she prayed for him to appear. It was late; she was just on the edge of sleep when the door creaked open. She sat up immediately, terrified of what it could be. She was only mildly surprised when his large, hulking shape gave her relief. He did as he always did, lay beside her with one arm thrown over her and nothing else.

They continued like this for some time but everything else in her life changed, her father was killed in front of her and she went from guest to prisoner in only a few seconds. It only took a few seconds. He held her as she sobbed that night. She hadn’t meant to turn into him. She couldn’t remember if his hand had pulled her to turn around or not. All she remembered was that one minute they lay as they always did and the next, she was curled into his chest with both of his arms around her. He was strong. Maybe he was strong enough to hold her together as she fell apart.

Life in the castle went on, Sansa learned her role. And the Hound returned to sleeping with only a hand touching her. He didn’t come every night, not even every other. But whenever she felt like the loneliness was finally swallow her whole; he would be there, his hand laid thickly on her side. He was there the night it happened.

She hadn’t known anything was amiss, only that her stomach was a bit upset, nothing to worry about. She awoke as she always did when he rolled out of bed just before dawn. She usually fell back to sleep when he was gone but not today. He sucked in a breath and it caused her to turn. She wasn’t used to actually looking at him. In fact, this may be the first time she had ever really seen him without her eye immediately flicking away. He slept in a shirt and loose pants. She blushed, half thankful for near darkness but it disappeared as she noticed what he was looking at. He had pulled his shirt away from his body and was looking down at it. She frowned as she followed his line of vision. At the hem of his shirt, there was a dark splotch. It looked like blood.

She felt a pang of fear run through her, he was bleeding? How? They had been sleeping. Had someone discovered them? But no, Sansa looked down at the bed and her fear turned to horror. Sandor wasn’t bleeding. She was.

She knew her eyes were full of panic as she looked up at him. He simply shook his head, “I’m sorry, Little Bird.” And then he was gone. When he returned, after Shay had disappeared presumably to help her hide this, he was wearing a new shirt. “Are you okay?”

Sansa was still crying but she nodded and Shay returned.

Sansa was sure he would not return that night. He almost never came two nights in a row and surely after this, he would not show his face for at least a week. Sansa tried not to think of the other possibilities but as she lay in bed the thoughts came unbidden. He might stop coming now that she was a woman. He might think it improper. She snorted, it had always been improper, surely this wouldn’t change things. She wasn’t sure why she hoped it wasn’t true. All she knew was the Hound, Sandor, was the only person in this hell she lived in that was kind and gentle. He gave her warmth and didn’t make her afraid. Of course there might be something to fear. What if he had been waiting for this? Waiting for her to become a woman so he could…Sansa shook her head even as she felt a coil of heat roll through her. Being a woman didn’t change anything. If anything, it should deter him since now she could become pregnant. He had never taken anything from her and he wouldn’t now, she was sure.

The door creaked open but before Sansa could turn to see if it were him, a stabbing pain rolled through her and she groaned, curling further into a ball.

“Little Bird?” his voice was as gentle as it could get and she felt the bed dip behind her. She didn’t speak, she couldn’t. Instead she tried to breathe through the pain, “I think this is normal?”

She almost laughed at his almost question. She nodded; he always seemed to be able to see in the dark, “Painful. Pressure is supposed to help.” She pressed her stomach but it didn’t change anything.

“Do you want me to go?” his hand lightly touched her side.

Sansa blinked. Go? He was asking? She knew what she was supposed to say. She should take her chance now while she had it and bar him from her room. But she was in pain and his hand felt nice. She didn’t answer him. Instead she grabbed his hand and dragged it forward, over the part of her stomach that hurt the worst and pressed it over her shift.

He seemed to understand and exerted some of his own pressure. Sansa let out a sigh. His hand was so warm, as it always was but the heat was soothing the pain and he pushed just enough so she could feel his hand but it didn’t hurt.

“Thank you” she muttered as she fell into sleep.

“Anything.” She didn’t hear him whisper.

Every night that she bled, he was there, his hand firmly in place as her personal self-soother. She wondered how he got out of his obligations but she didn’t ask. She didn’t care. He was there when she needed him. That was all that mattered. Every time she bled after that, he was there every night just as her first blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	3. The Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa asks Sandor some questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a year pass to age Sansa up a bit.

A year passed and she fell into an uncomfortable rhythm. She was glad for Margery and her reprieve from wedding bells but she knew her position was tenuous. She tried not to think of it much. Instead, she walked with Margery most days through the garden and learned all she could.

It was after one of these visits that Sandor found her pacing her room when he entered. “You should be in bed.” He said gruffly, still keeping his voice down.

Sansa startled, as if she hadn’t heard him enter. She uttered a small, “Oh” before scrambling into bed and turning away from him.

He crawled in behind and set his hand on her like always before closing his eyes. Sansa chewed on her lip, still thinking. After a moment, Sandor let out a put upon sigh, “I can tell that you aren’t sleeping. I can nearly hear your brain whirring. Sleep, Little Bird.”

“Margery told me something today.” Sansa was speaking before she even chose to.

“The flower?” Sandor huffed from behind her and when she nodded he grunted, “Beware her thorns, Little Bird.”

Sansa was momentarily side tracked, “You call her flower like her crest and I’ve heard you call other nobles by theirs. Why do you call me Bird? I should be a Direwolf. A She-Wolf.” Sansa smiled, enjoying the visual.

Sandor made a sound that Sansa thought might just be a laugh, “Because you don’t bite, you sing.”

Sansa frowned, did he really think so little of her? But he spoke again before she could, “Besides. You are in a lion’s den. A She-Wolf would be eliminated immediately,” He paused and she knew how the sentence ended, ‘eliminated immediately, like your father; “a little bird might just fly away someday.” He finished quietly.

Sansa sucked in a quiet breath. Did he really believe that? That one day she would be able to get out of this hell? Surely not. Where would she go? She had no family.

“I never knew you to speak in rhymes like they do.” She murmured absently.

She felt him shrug, “I know how to speak like your pretty knights, Little Bird. I just think its bullshit most of the time. The flower is as cunning as the lions. Just know she might be lying to you.”

Sansa nodded, she knew this much of Margery. She had learned to think this about everyone in King’s Landing. Everyone except Sandor. She shook her head, “I don’t think she would have any reason to lie to me about this. But how am I to know?” She paused a moment, feeling the embarrassment even before she ventured the brazen question, “Will you tell me if what she says is true?”

There was a quiet moment before he muttered, “Aye, if I can.”

Sansa smiled, he had fallen for her trap, “She told me of what happens between a man and a woman in the marriage bed.” She felt Sandor jolt into stillness as if he had been struck by lightning, “She seemed to know quite a bit.”

A harsh laugh rolled through Sandor as he retracted his hand. Sansa was highly aware of the movement, “Aye, I bet she did.” He said something to himself which Sansa thought sounded suspiciously like ‘Virgin my ass.’ But she wasn’t sure.

She braved on, “She explained in a lot of detail and I’m inclined to believe her…it’s just—my septa told us something that sounded much different. She never gave us any details but she said it was an act a man enjoys but a woman must endure. Margery said something different.” Sansa paused, waiting for him to speak but when he didn’t she found herself spilling once again, “She said that there are a rare few men who make it enjoyable for the woman. But since we are disinclined to find men like that, there was a way to find enjoyment ourselves.”

Sandor made a choking sound that gave Sansa pause but when he didn’t speak after another beat of silence, she continued, “She said that we—that I—should—touch myself. So that when I eventually marry, I would know what I find pleasurable.” Sansa rushed through the end and waited. She waited for what felt like an eternity but still the man behind her did not speak. Finally, out of sheer frustration, she burst out, “Well?”

There was another pause and Sansa thought she might just go insane when he finally responded, “Well what?” his voice sounded rough, strained.

Sansa let out an irritated growl, “Was she telling me the truth?”

“About which part?” He said in a quick, chopped voice.

Sansa threw up her hands and let them flop back down to the bed, “Is it enjoyable for a man always? Is he never to endure? And is a woman to endure unless she knows what to do? And what does it all mean anyway? How can something be either enjoyable or endurable? Surely, it must be just one.” Sansa felt years of curiosity spilling forth. She couldn’t ask Margery these questions, it was improper. It was even more improper to ask the man behind her but they had crossed that line nearly two years ago.

Sandor sighed, “Aye, Little Bird, it is much easier for a man to find enjoyment than a woman. And the flower had the right of it, a woman can enjoy but only if either the man cares enough or she knows what to do.”

“Men never have to endure? That doesn’t seem right.” Sansa could practically hear the pout in her voice. Why were things always easier for men?

Sandor sighed and he spoke quietly as if imparting a secret, “Men. Well, some men. Do have to endure. In different ways though. It always feels good but there can be a bitterness to it too.”

Sansa bit her lip, knowing instinctively that he was speaking of himself, “How so?”

Sandor sighed again but she could feel it was angry and she was prepared for the hard edge in his voice, “It can only be so enjoyable when you have to pay for it. Feels a bit like begging and no man can find pure enjoyment from paying for it.”

“Paying for it?” she replied quietly, more to herself than to him.

“You aren’t that naïve Little Bird.”

Sansa shook her head, “No, of course not. I just mean—Do you—always—have to pay for it?”

She heard his derisive snort and had the odd feeling she had just stepped to close to a dangerous animal, “You think a woman would ever choose to look on this face?”

Sansa searched for something to say. Anything. She knew it had to be good, she could feel him rolling away and she couldn’t let him leave. She spoke quickly, unthinkingly, “Do you think I should touch myself?”

She felt him freeze again but she didn’t dare turn around. She was sure her face was the same color as her hair. He let out a questioning grunt even as she felt him settle back into place.

She took a deep breath before speaking as evenly as she could, “What Margery suggested. Do you think I should touch myself, to prepare? Or do you think I should wait and hope for a man who cares? Or should I just endure as my septa intended?”

She heard him sigh and mutter ‘Little Bird’ but there was a quiet moment before he spoke, “You should know your body better than anyone else.”

Sansa frowned, when he put it like that, it made a lot of sense. She lay quietly thinking until she felt his hand come to rest on her again and she found herself drifting off to sleep.

The next time he visited her room, Sandor found her sitting up in bed, her arms crossed and glaring into space. He couldn’t help the chuckle that fell from his lips and he crawled into bed. When he was comfortable, he waved a hand at her, “Go on then.”

Sansa shook her head but her arms fell to her sides, “I just don’t understand. It was nothing. It wasn’t something horrible I had to endure but neither was it enjoyable. It just felt like nothing.”

Sandor groaned before motioning for Sansa to get into bed properly. She frowned at him for a moment before giving in and wigging down and facing away from him. He let out a loud breath and spoke, “Then you didn’t do it right.”

Sansa rolled her eyes and glanced back at him, “I didn’t realize there was a right way to do it.”

Sandor pinched the bridge of his nose as he spoke, “What did the flower tell you to do exactly?”

Sansa shrugged, “I told you. She told me to touch myself.”

Sandor waited a moment before speaking, “That’s it? Did she tell you where to touch yourself?”

Sansa shook her head, “No but after the whole talk I know where she was talking about.” She followed this with a nod, pointing to where exactly she had touched herself.

Sandor sighed again and it was really starting to annoy her but thankfully he spoke, “You can touch yourself anywhere, Little Bird. Anywhere that feels nice. You can rub, massage, hell even squeeze if you like it. Try your teets and your rump.” Sansa pursed her lips, she hadn’t thought of that. He kept speaking, “Rhythm is usually good too, pick a feeling you like and keep to it.”

Sansa nodded, taking notes in her head. She could do that, it all sounded easy enough. As if he could hear her thoughts, he spoke again, “And don’t think.”

Sansa let out an indignant sound, “How can I not think?”

Sandor made a sound that was half snort of laughter half groan of irritation, “Just don’t think about what you’re doing. Think about your pretty knights. Imagine their hands.”

Sansa gasped, she could even think about thinking that way. Sandor laughed behind her, “Fine, fine. Just picture them giving you flowers or something. I don’t care girl. It just if you focus on what you’re doing, it’s going to throw you off.”

Sansa nodded and they lay in bed for long quiet moments. Sansa bit her lip, he might be asleep by now but she had to ask, “How do you know all this?”

“Mmm?” he asked drowsily.

“How do you know what to do?”

Sandor laughed, “How do I know how to touch myself? Trust me Little Bird, I am a verified master in the subject.”

Sansa was horrified and titillated and a little amused but she shook her head, “No, you told me where to touch. It’s not as if you have teets.”

That earned her another laugh. When he settled, he made a movement; she guessed it was a shrug, “A woman already has to endure my face. I usually try to make up for it with more than just coin.”

Sansa couldn’t help the grin on her face, “You are one of those men. The rare men Margery mentioned.”

“Not one of your knights, girl.”

Sansa nodded, “I know.” Still, maybe she wouldn’t picture a knight when she was alone, “You’ve never taken liberties with me. You could have.” She said lowly.

Sandor grunted, “I like my women willing. I’m not my brother.” The words were said with so much force, she didn’t dare reply. It was a moment before he spoke again, “Besides, a bird isn’t compatible with a hound.”

Sansa closed her eyes tight, unable to help the thought. A bird wasn’t. But a She-Wolf was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	4. The Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa can't seem to get a handle on things. She needs a tutor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highly explicit. Read at your own risk.

As Sandor climbed into her bed a few nights later, she almost felt him waiting. She smiled softly, did he want her to speak, tell him of her attempts? She sighed, “It was nice, I suppose.”

Sandor snorted, “nice?”

Sansa shrugged, “is it supposed to be more than that?”

Sandor did something he had never done before. His thumb stroked back and forth two times on her hips. She felt the movement spread through her whole body. When he spoke, he spoke quietly, “did you peak Little Bird?”

Sansa frowned, “Peak?”

His chuckle was answer enough and Sansa let out a groan, “I’ve done it wrong again?! Seriously!?”

“Practice makes perfect, Little Bird.”

Sansa was quiet for a while, chewing on her lip. She was thinking crazy, she knew she was. She just had to decide whether she was brave enough to do it. Bird or wolf. She flipped quickly, turning onto her back and keeping her eyes firmly on the ceiling. He was nearly as fast as she was, snatching his hand away.

“Turn over, Little Bird.” He said in his controlling deep voice.

“Tell me what I did wrong.” She said, ignoring him.

“How am I supposed to do that?” He spoke through clenched teeth this time.

Sansa shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, as if this was nothing, “You could watch me and critique.” He was silent, “It was how I got so good at embroidery.”

“This ain’t embroidery, girl.” He said it again in that clenched voice.

Sansa eyed him from her periphery, “I know,” she said irritatingly.

He didn’t speak and she sighed, “You wouldn’t touch me.”

“I’d see you.”

She shrugged, “You’ve already seen me. When the king stripped me—”

“I covered you before your dress fell all the way off.” His growl was angry and she knew it wasn’t for her.

She smiled softly, “You saw my lower half the day of the riot. I know you did.”

Sandor ground his teeth, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Sandor, I live in hell.” She felt his eyes running over her face. “There is no joy, no happiness. Show me how to find it. Please.”

She turned to look at him, at his eyes closed in an expression that resembled pain. He nodded without opening his eyes.

Sansa jumped out of bed and raced to her drawing table where she grabbed her candle and lit it. She covered the flame as she brought it to her nightstand. She paused, glancing at Sandor, before pulling the table away from her bed. Far enough that there was no way the candle could fall onto it but there was still light.

She took a deep breath, a fast one so he couldn’t interpret it as a hesitation. She bent to grab the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head and off in one fast movement. She was supposed to be wearing under things but she never did except during her moon blood. It was pointless at night and she liked the way her shift felt on her bare skin.

Sandor sucked in a breath but when she looked at him, he was looking away, at the candle with a blank expression. Sansa squinted at him, not entirely fooled. She went to lift up her blankets to crawl under them but stopped, there was no point. Instead she crawled on top of them and lay on her back.

There was silence. Sansa bit her lip and glanced over at Sandor but he still stared at the flame.

“Go on then.” He muttered.

“You have to look to tell me what I’m doing wrong.” Sansa bit out. It was easier to be irritated with him than to be terrified of what she was about to do.

Sandor’s eyes snapped to hers and her breath caught in her throat. He had beautiful eyes. How had she never noticed that? Dark swirling brown that could look dangerous but here, they just looked warm.

“Actually touching yourself might be a good place to start.” There was humor in his voice and it made her mounting fear settle.

Sansa had no control of the giggle that bubbled up from her throat. She schooled it instantly and cleared her throat. She lifted her hand, thinking for a second where to touch when she finally decided to just go for it. As she lowered it to her folds, his hand whipped out and grabbed it.

She gasped, feeling warmth run through her. She looked at him and he shook his head, “Not there. Not yet. I told you to touch other places that felt good. Did you?”

Sansa was entranced by his eyes. She nodded, her mouth parted slightly. His voice had gone husky and it was making her body feel more than her hands had yet to do. He pulled his hand away and nodded at her to continue.

She lifted her hand, bringing it to her neck and running her fingers along it. Her breath caught when he whispered, “Softer. Slower.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as she did it again, just her fingertips tracing the skin. She followed the line of her neck and ran it along her collarbone. Her other hand came to trace up the bottom of her ribs, trailing closer to her breasts. She bit her lips as she swirled her fingertips around them.

“Wha—”

He was there, ready to answer her question before she even asked, “Cup them. Gently. Massage them.”

She did as he said and sighed, it felt better than when she had touched herself. It had all just felt odd and she hadn’t been able to get out of her own head. With Sandor, she couldn’t remain in her head. She was compelled by him. His voice, and his eyes that she felt on her.

“Roll your nipples between your fingers.”

Sansa arched, gasping at the shock that ran through her. “Good, Little Bird. Just like that.” His voice had gone breathy and she whimpered; his praise causing her as much pleasure as her hands. “Pinch one.”

Her body jerked as she did as he said, “Sandor. More.”

She heard him curse but he spoke to her again, “Keep one hand there. Move the other down. Slower, Little Bird.”

She whimpered, wanting to move faster but she didn’t. Physically couldn’t when his words told her no.

“Circle your navel.” She did. “Now with your whole hand, no fingers, cup your pretty little cunt.” Her mouth fell open as she did, at his words. “Press your middle finger down just a little and slide your hand back up.” She whimpered. “Good, now back down, through your folds. Slow.”

She gasped, “I’m—I’m wet.”

Sandor frowned though she didn’t see it, “You haven’t been before?”

Sansa shook her head as she continued to slowly move her finger up and down her folds. Sandor cursed again, “Do you feel the little nub at the top of your cunt, Little Bird?” She nodded, “Good, circle it with your finger, don’t actually touch it, just around.”

Her back bowed off the bed again, “Sandor.” She moaned.

Sandor let out a huff and the warmth of his breath on her neck made her shiver. When he spoke again, his voice was closer and she could feel each of his exhales. “There’s more we could do but I think we’ll stick to this. Huh, Little Bird? You stopped rolling your nipple.”

She gasped rolling it fast by accident. The double feeling had her nearly choking on air as she shook her head side to side.

“A little faster, Little Bird.” His fingers were on her face and she moaned but he was barely touching her, just the tips of his fingers as he brushed the hair out of her face, “So beautiful.”

He was saying it to himself, she knew but she heard it. And her stomach clenched tightly, she understood what a peak was now. She was definitely climbing towards something. Her eyes snapped open and she whimpered as she saw him leaning over her just slightly, his eyes on her face. She could feel his breath catch. When he spoke, it sounded like it was pulled from him, “Faster.”

She sped up her finger, moaning again as his fingers traced her face. He brushed her hair behind her ear, tracing his finger around the shell and then down her neck as he leaned closer, “Faster.”

She moved faster and she could feel herself right on the precipice of something but she couldn’t quite figure out what. She moaned, reaching out to grip his arm. It was firm and warm under her fingers and she didn’t even miss the pressure on her breast as she squeezed his bicep.

“Sandor,” She panted, “I need—I need—”

He rolled further over her, his mass hovering above her but his face stayed right at her ear, “Don’t stop. Go faster if you can.” His nose brushed her ear and she moaned, “Cum for me Sansa.”

He nipped her ear and Sansa was falling; thrown over a cliff and positive that Sandor would catch her. She moaned his name, feeling her body jerk spasmodically. Then his hand was over hers, keeping her rhythm and she felt a second wave of pleasure. His hand moved with her and it felt like her peak just kept going and going.

Finally, her hands fell away and Sandor rolled away from her. She was still panting, so lost in her pleasure that she didn’t notice him roll all the way off the bed until he was standing. She turned to look at him, a lazy smile on her face, “What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Good night, Little Bird.” He was turning away, walking towards the door.

Sansa sat up, “What? Why?”

“Things to do.” He muttered and before she could speak, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	5. The Lesson Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa knows a woman's body, but her education never covered a man's. Maybe it should.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen people, we are only getting more explicit from here so strap in or stop now.

Sansa lay in bed but she faced the door waiting for him. She never got to look at him and that just didn’t seem fair so she waited, as she had every night for a week. He had never stayed away for an entire week. This was her fault, she shouldn’t have asked him to help. It had been useless anyway. That night had been amazing. The best night in her life but it was unrepeatable. She had tried but all she was left with was unsatisfied need. Need for him. She had run through every emotion. She was mad at him, she was scared something had happened, she was happy he had given her what he had, she was desperate for him to come back, then she was mad again.

Now she was just determined. He would return eventually, it was inevitable. And she would demand more. She knew he would agree. He had to. She had seen the look in his eyes; she knew he had enjoyed it, maybe not as much as she had, but she was willing to change that. She felt like she was suddenly seeing clearly for the first time. She would give him anything. She knew Sandor, knew him better than anyone and he knew her. He had saved her at every turn, kept her as innocent as he could. It was time she gave him something.

The door creaked open and Sansa jumped from her bed, all thought forgotten. Sandor was turned toward the door, ensuring it closed as softly as possible. As he turned, he took a step into the room only to be pushed back as Sansa put all of her weight behind her arms.

“How dare you!?” She only gained a half step and only because he had been caught unaware. Now that he knew she was there, he caught her next push and held her to him.

“You left! You just left!” she was saying as she pummeled uselessly against his chest.

“Quiet down Little Bird.” He said lowly.

It only infuriated her more. She knew he was right but did he have to be so level headed? “Don’t you dare—”

Suddenly she was spun around and one arm lifted her from the ground as a hand clapped gently over her mouth, “You want to get caught? Kill us both?”

She growled, folding her arms. His hands on her were setting her skin on fire. His voice and breath in her ear making her stomach clench in pleasure.

“I didn’t leave because I wanted to.” He continued and walked farther into the room before setting her down and sitting on the edge of her bed where he began to unlace his shoes, “I was sent to retrieve someone.”

She was momentarily distracted by the intimate image of him sitting on her bed, his thick fingers deftly untying his tiny laces. She wondered if anyone had ever seen him in such a normal setting. She shook her head, feeling her anger return, “Lies. I saw you yesterday. You could have come last night.”

He shook his head, stretching before turning and lounging backward on her bed, his arms behind his head, “Couldn’t. Was at the brothel all night.”

The image of him was heady, he looked strong, sexy. She saw herself crawling over him, straddling him and placing a kiss on his rough lips. But then his words registered and she reeled back as if he had hit her, “The brothel?!” She didn’t know why she was so hurt. He was a man. He had told her he went there. She had just thought what they had shared…but what had they shared really? He had gotten nothing out of the exchange. She stood ridged, swallowing thickly and desperately hoping her voice did not betray her hurt, “then why come tonight? Why come back at all when there is a perfectly good brothel just down the road?” he raised an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes, “The maids talk more freely now that I am simply a prisoner.”

The words seemed to anger him. He sat up, frowning. “First, Little Bird,” his voice was tight, mean. She tried to prepare herself, “If I spent every night at the brothel, I’d be broke. Second, I was there yesterday because I was guarding some bastard who can do something for the king and he wanted to try; oh how did he put it, ‘King’s Landing cunt’ while he could. Third, given that you are nothing more than a prisoner, you should be glad for my protection.”

Sansa categorically ignored her chin shaking. Really, her whole body was shaking in relief. Why admit that he had not been with anyone if he did not care for her, “Is that why you come then? To protect me?”

He kept her gaze as he spoke, “Aye, Little Bird. That’s why.” She knew it was a lie, she could see it in his eyes. He sighed, leaning back again, “Besides, I thought you would enjoy your nights alone, now that you are a learned woman.”

Sansa felt herself growing crimson. She looked down, quickly rounding the bed and crawling into her spot, though she did lie down. Instead, she sat up next to him, “No. I—No.”

She could practically feel his eyebrow raise. It was kind of sexy, “No? When I figured it out, I nearly rubbed myself raw.”

She shook her head trying her best not to picture that, “No—I can’t—by myself.”

There was a moment of tense silence before she crossed her arms, “Besides, that’s not what I meant, when I said you left. Although I was worried. You could have been dead for all I knew.”

“You’d have heard if I was dead.” He said but his voice had gone soft.

Sansa felt her shoulder’s relax, “Why did you leave that night?”

He didn’t respond right away and she glanced up at him to see his jaw tensing and relaxing, “I promised I wouldn’t take liberties with you.”

Sansa felt herself grow warm, “you wanted to take liberties?”

Sandor looked away, towards the door, as if considering leaving again. Sansa looked down, playing with her hands in her lap, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

“I wouldn’t have touched you, girl.” His voice was rough, fast. Sansa wanted to respond that she would not have been averse to this but he was shaking his head, “I just—needed—relief. And I wasn’t about to subject you to seeing that.”

Sansa couldn’t help it; her eyes drew to his lap. She wasn’t sure if he saw but his hands dropped to lie there. Sansa cleared her throat, “You—touched yourself?”

Sandor pinched the bridge of his nose and Sansa smiled. It was such a put upon expression, one she had seen every male member of her family make. She wanted to laugh at the happy memories it brought to mind. He made her happy.

“Gods, girl. Remember when you were too afraid to speak when I was around? Can we go back to that?”

Her smile grew rueful and when he glanced at her, she shook her head. He huffed a laugh and shook his head too. He wiggled down into a lying position, “Aye, I touched myself. Men do it more than women. Or so I’ve been told. Now go to bed, I’m done talking.”

To prove his point, he threw a hand over his eyes and slowed his breathing. Sansa didn’t move, gazing at him for long moments. She wasn’t fool enough to think he had fallen asleep. She bit her lip; he was so at ease around her. She could guarantee that he never obscured his vision in the presence of anyone else. Her eyes trailed to his lips. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She was feeling bold but not that bold. Besides, she had always pictured the man kissing her, not the other way around.

“Is touching yourself the same as when I touch myself?”

Sandor let out a deep sigh, “I suppose. Rhythm is good, though I don’t touch other parts of myself.”

“Why not?”

Sandor shrugged, “I guess I can’t fool myself into thinking my rough hands could ever be that of a woman’s.”

Sansa thought about that for a minute, thought about what other advice he had given her, “Do you think of women?”

He lowered his arm just long enough to give her a dubious look before returning it over his eyes.

Sansa nodded though he couldn’t see. Of course, that was a dumb question though she couldn’t help wondering what kind of women, if she was ever one of them. She sat quietly for another moment, the boldness still rolling through her.

She took a deep breath, “Can I see?” Her words were a whisper.

For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard her but then his arm was pulling away from his face slowly, eyes wide with shock, “What?”

Sansa bit her lip again, picking at her fingers, “Can I see?”

Sandor squinted at her, “See what?”

Sansa rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated growl, “What—What you—your—”

“You’re asking to see my cock, girl. You should at least have the guts to say the words.”

Sansa took a deep breath, looking straight ahead, “Fine. Can I see your cock?”

“No.”

She gasped, turning towards him, “Why not?”

Sandor cursed, lurching out of bed and pacing back and forth, “Gods, girl. Do you even know what you’re asking? You’re playing with fire here.”

Sansa felt calm. He didn’t scare her. He hadn’t in a long time, “You won’t hurt me.”

Sandor froze, staring at her. He sighed, shaking his head, “You’re a high bred lady—”

“I’m a prisoner.” She corrected. Sandor threw his hands up. He looked slightly comical and she held in a smile, “you saw me. Why can’t I see you?”

“That was for you to learn.” He said sternly, his hands on his hips.

Again she wanted to laugh, she was enjoying the new sides of him she was seeing tonight, “and this would also be for me to learn.”

Sandor turned away from her, “You have a shit ton of brothers. You’re telling me you’ve never seen a cock?”

Sansa blushed and looked away, “I suppose I’ve seen accidental glimpses here and there but I was never looking. And Margery said they look different when a man is—aroused.”

“Flower needs to be pruned.” He said to himself through gitted teeth.

Sansa felt her heart speed up, he wasn’t saying no. She could do this. “Please, Sandor.” His body jerked when she said his name, “I don’t want to stand there like a gaping fish on my wedding night.”

It got the reaction she was hoping for. He chuckled, then sighed before slowly turning around. Sansa sat up a little straighter, turning her body towards him. He gritted his teeth before pulling his shirt over his head.

“Wait!” Sansa said and he froze, shirt still in his hand. She scrambled off her bed to light the candle still set on her tableside. She crawled back into bed, resuming her position. She took a minute to get comfortable before looking up expectantly, “Proceed.”

Sandor snorted, dropping his shirt and beginning to unlace his pants. While he was looking down, she took the chance to admire his form. He was large, the largest man she had ever seen and part of her had always assumed it was the armor making him look so capable. But he wasn’t wearing armor now. His muscles were thick and well defined and he was covered in coarse hair just like his hand. She felt her mouth go dry while other places became less dry. He wasn’t so hairy, just a nice dusting. She wanted to touch him. He had stopped moving and she looked up at him to find him staring at her, waiting with a small smirk on his face. She blushed though she wasn’t ashamed. The whole point of this was to look after all. His thumbs were hooked in his pants and she swallowed, giving him a small nod.

He took a deep breath before pulling his pants, underthings and all, down and off. He stood up straight, throwing his pants next to his shirt. Sansa’s jaw fell open.

Sandor chuckled and her eyes flew from his cock up to his face. She swallowed, closing her mouth as her eyes fell back down to him. He was big; his cock thick and looking slightly hard. Something hung below it but she didn’t really focus on that. Her eyes lifted to him again, “Are you—?” her voice was breathy and she had to start again, “Are you aroused?”

Sandor had the audacity to shrug, “A little. Not fully. Bit unnerving with you just sitting there staring at me.”

Sansa thought for only a moment before getting off the bed on her side. Quickly, she stripped her shift off. He cursed and she looked up at him to see his eyes roaming her form freely.

“You didn’t have to—” he said in a choked voice.

“Did it help?” She asked innocently.

He snorted, motioning to himself, “See for yourself.”

Her eyes lowered, lingering on every inch of skin before she gasped. He had grown larger and harder, his cock jutting out punishingly. She frowned, “Does it hurt?”

Sandor laughed, well and truly laughed, “Not really. It will if it’s not dealt with.”

“Are you going to deal with it?”

His hand twitched towards it but he didn’t move, “No.”

She frowned, “But if you’re in pain—”

“No, Little Bird. Leave it.” He said roughly, falling onto the bed, not bothering to cover himself with the blanket.

Sansa bit her lip, unsure for only a moment before crawling back into bed herself but under the blanket, she was cold. Sandor was breathing heavily; his chest rising and falling was distracting her. He was closer now, so close she could feel the heat from his skin. She wanted to touch.

“Can I touch you?” She whispered softly.

Sandor’s eyes snapped shut and he shook his head. Sansa felt the frown form on her face but then he was speaking, “Do what you want, girl.”

Sansa lifted her hand but paused, “If you don’t—”

“I do.” His eyes stayed shut. Sansa felt her stomach clench pleasantly.

She sat up; her fingers hovered over his skin, unsure of where to touch first. Her face softened as she looked at him. His face was screwed up in determination, his hands fisted in the sheets. Her fingers landed on his burned cheek and his eyes snapped open, sucking in a breath.

Sansa was quiet, lightly running her hands along it, “Can you feel this?”

“Pressure.” The words rushed from his lungs.

Sansa nodded, before reaching to run along the unburned side of his face, “Here?”

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, “Soft.”

She smiled softly, cupping his cheek as her thumb brushed against his lips. They parted, his tongue darting out to touch the pad of her thumb. She gasped, feeling the touch deep inside her. He grinned slightly, eyes still closed.

She nearly giggled but she refocused, drawing her hand down his neck, enjoying the shiver that ran down his body. She smiled, he may not like his own hands on his body but he certainly seemed to like hers. Her hand continued down his chest and she felt her own breath quickening. He was so strong, so masculine. How had she ever found Joffrey attractive? He was less than nothing next to this force of a man beside her. She frowned as she reached his pec; she pinched his nipple as she had done to herself.

Sandor let out a breathless laugh and shook his head, “not the same effect.”

Sansa pouted for a moment before shrugging and continuing her trek downward. As she circled his navel, he let out a groan and his very impressive length jerked. Sansa squeaked, unprepared. Sandor’s laugh filled the room and Sansa couldn’t help but smile up at him.

His eyes were open and the look he gave her took her breath away. It was pure affection. It was…no, he didn’t love her. And she didn’t love him. Did she?

She shook her head slightly, she would think about that later. She skirted his cock in favor of running her fingers down his thighs. He let out a frustrated growl and Sansa felt her own thighs shake. How was he affecting her without even touching her?

She bit her lip, running her fingers back up his thigh and gently touching the sack that sat underneath his cock. She tilted her head, studying it as she rolled the seemingly balls in her hand, “What are these called?”

Sandor let out a choked laugh, “Balls.”

Sansa hummed, rolling them again and watching as his cock jerked, “Suppose I should have guessed that. And all men have them?”

Sandor was staring up at the ceiling, swallowing hard as he nodded. Sansa let her fingers just barely run up his length, feather light and this time she smiled when it jerked, “But not all men are this big.”

Sandor cursed, “Fuck, Sansa touch it or leave it, don’t do that.”

Sansa smiled, titillated by how she could bring him to his knees, he was practically begging her. She liked it. She brushed along it with just a touch more pressure, “You didn’t answer my question.”

“No. They aren’t all as big as me.” He gritted through his teeth.

Sansa pressed her fingers against it without gripping it. She touched hard enough that it was caught between his stomach and her fingers but still she only ran her hand up and down it lightly. He groaned.

“Is it because you’re big?” She asked, a little curious but more enjoying his mounting need.

“Part of it.” He ground out, his hands twisting in the blanket.

Sansa pursed her lips, “So other men. Men who aren’t as large as you, could be as big as you are?”

Sandor moved with lightning speed, grabbing her hand and causing her to grip his shaft. She gasped; she never would have gripped him this hard on her own. “I don’t want to talk about other cocks right now, Sansa.”

His eyes were dark, filled with lust and she caught herself before she moaned. She was under his spell as much as he was under hers. When he said her name, she would do anything for him. She nodded and he released his hand from hers but she didn’t let go. She marveled at the texture, smooth yet hard. She squeezed it experimentally and felt herself shiver as he moaned.

“Move your hand, up and down.” She did once and he nodded, panting, “Yea, like that.”

She did it again, examining the head which was more blunted. She brought her other hand up to touch it and was rewarded by another moan. “Is this your seed?” She asked, touching the pearly liquid the dotted the head.

He let out a breath, “Yes. Don’t stop moving.”

She stroked again, knowing inherently that she was not moving fast enough to cause him to explode. “I thought that only happened when you—when you—”

Sandor huffed a laugh, “Gods, girl, how can you be so innocent and so fucking sexy at the same time?” His words ended in a moan and Sansa hid a whimper in a hum. “Some comes out when I’m really aroused. Much more comes out when I cum. Fuck, Sansa move faster.”

She did as he asked, swiping her thumb over the head when she got there. The choking sound from Sandor assured her it was a good move and she continued to do it on each upstroke. It caused her hand to become wet with his seed and helped her move along his shaft. She shook her head, eyes glued to her hand.

“There’s no way this could ever fit.” She murmured.

She didn’t need to explain. She gasped when his hand shot out and gripped her waist, right where he usually laid his hand as they slept. She shivered, knowing she would never be able to feel it again without remembering this. Remembering exactly how his rough palm felt on her soft bare skin. She looked over at his face to find him watching her.

He was panting still but he seemed focused if only for the moment, “You’re supposed to be wet, that helps.”

Sansa wiggled, that was definitely happening. He didn’t miss the movement. His eyes trailed down her legs though her position didn’t offer him a view of her folds. His eyes trailed back up as if he had forgotten that she was naked too. She certainly had, her attention had been on discovering him. She felt it all too clearly now.

“It hurts the first time. For the woman.” His eyes strayed from where they had rested on her breasts up to her eyes, “You know that.”

She nodded and he swallowed thickly, “A man who gives a shit, will prepare you. Get you ready.”

Sansa frowned, “Prepare me?”

Sandor closed his eyes for a brief moment, the hand not touching her lifting to circle her hand again and move it. She startled slightly, not having realized she had stopped moving. She squeezed in her haste and he groaned again.

“Fingers.” He panted out. “One finger. Then two. Maybe three depending on how big he is.”

Sansa focused on her hand. “Is that what you meant before? When you said there was more? The other night?”

He nodded, closing his eyes as her hand moved over him, still not as fast as her hand had been moving on herself.

Sansa nodded, eyeing his cock again before her eyes fell to the hand on her hip. His fingers were large. Still, three was definitely smaller than his cock. She bit her lip and he cursed again as his fingers tightened on her. She looked up to find him staring at her.

“Gods, Sansa, don’t look at them like that.”

She did her best to look innocent, “Like what?”

He held her gaze, “Like you want me to do it.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, her eyes fluttering shut as the image swam before her eyes. He cursed again, causing her to open her eyes in time to see his body roll in a motion that had her whimpering before she could stop herself.

Sandor froze. And Sansa froze in response. They stared at each other for a second before he let out loud breath, “Fuck, you do, don’t you? You want me to fuck you with my fingers.” Sansa closed her eyes but she couldn’t stop the full body shiver.

“Fuck. Lie down.” His voice was rough.

Sansa panicked, her eyes snapping open, sure he was going to stop this before either of them had had their fill, “But—”

“Lie down, Sansa.” His voice brokered no argument and she reluctantly let go of his cock and lay back.

As she did, he rose up to hover over her and she gasped. He wasn’t on top of her, his side still lay firmly on the bed but he was large enough that she still felt caged in. He stared down at her for long moments, savoring the sight of her. Slowly, he drew the blanket away so she was fully bare. She shivered though she didn’t know if it was from cold or excitement.

“Tell me, Little Bird.” His voice was suddenly achingly gentle, his hand coming up to hover over her, “Tell me you want me to touch you. I won’t do anything you don’t want. I won’t do anything more than touch you with my fingers. I won’t break your maidenhead.”

Sansa whimpered. She didn’t care if he did more. She didn’t care if he did break her maidenhead. She just wanted him. Wanted all of him. The depth of her emotion only slightly surprised her, “I want you to touch me.”

He hung his head, cursing lightly before his eyes came back to hers. Like her, he started by cupping her cheek, his large hand covering it entirely. She didn’t gasp in surprise. Instead, she turned into it, nuzzling. Sandor let out a disbelieving sound and when she peeked at him, his eyes showed awe. A part of her hurt for him, knowing he had never thought anyone could want him. Not like this, not at all. He mirrored her previous moves, his thumb gliding along her lips.

Sansa smiled, before biting it. He jerked then moaned, “You’re gonna kill me, Little Bird.”

“Not yet.” She whispered.

He grinned pulling his hand down her neck. His fingers were rougher than hers and seemed to catch against every inch of her skin. She writhed under him, grasping his shoulders and trying to pull him closer. He didn’t budge but repositioned so both of his hands were free and running down her skin. She whimpered but it turned into a moan as his hands reached her breasts. He did just as he had instructed. He cupped them then massaged them.

“So fucking perfect.” He muttered and his words felt just as good as his hands.

When he rolled the buds in his fingers, she arched off the bed, “Sandor.”

Suddenly his breath was at her ear, “Shh, Little Bird. I want you screaming my name but if you’re that loud, someone will hear.”

She turned her head and bit into his shoulder. He hissed, his hips jerking against her and she could feel his hard cock move against her hip. She moaned, mindful to keep her voice down. One of Sandor’s hands stayed on her breast while the other traveled down. He drew random shapes as he moved down leisurely, still rolling her nipple. She groaned, rolling her body in the hopes that it would push his hand lower. The movement caused her hip to move against his cock and Sandor buried his head in her neck to muffle his own moan.

Sansa panted, bringing a hand up to clasp his neck, needing to touch him. Her other hand scratched down his stomach, stopping so she could wrap it around his cock. She tried to jerk it a few times but the angle was awkward.

He chuckled and the sound right next to her ear made her shiver. “Just hold it there Little Bird. I’ll do the rest.” To prove his point he thrust and she felt his length slide along her hand.

He shuttered, lifting his head to nip at her ear as he had done before. She gasped, arching again and she could feel his smile as he nuzzled her neck. His forefinger circled her navel before trailing down through her folds.

Their moans matched, “Fuck, baby, you this wet for me?”

Sansa let out a sob. He was perfect. His hands and his words whipped her up into a storm. She felt like she was already close and he had barely touched her. His thrust against her made her feel slightly better. At least he was not immune to the charge in the air.

His finger moved up and down a few times before settling lower than she had ever gone, at her entrance. He moved it leisurely side to side as his thumb began maddeningly slow circles around the nub at the top of her folds.

“This is your clit.” He rumbled low into her ear as he circled it again, “Can make you feel real good.” He pressed harder and she moaned, her body jerking with his every touch. “But this is your entrance.” His forefinger rubbed circles, before dipping just barely into the center. Sansa’s jaw fell open, “This is where your wetness comes from, readying you for a cock.” He thrust into her hand, “My cock.”

Sansa whimpered, pushing down slightly so his finger slipped just that much farther in. He stilled it, allowing her to control the movement but his thumb continued to circle her clit, “Yea. Just like that, Little Bird. Take it.” He began to thrust in a slow rhythm in her hand, “Take my finger like you want to take my cock.”

“Sandor,” she breathed, pressing down further and feeling herself envelop his finger. It felt odd, different than his thumb circling her. She paused, trying to decide how she felt about it. He didn’t give her the time. He pulled his finger out before pushing back in, pinching her nipple at the same time. She gasped, her hand clenching around his cock, causing him to groan and pick up speed in his thrusts.

“Too much?” he panted, pulling up slightly to gaze into her eyes.

Her mouth was still opened but she shook her head. It felt good. It all felt good. “Don’t stop.”

He growled, dipping to nip her ear again as his fingers began an unforgiving rhythm, his forefinger pumping inside of her and his thumb rubbing messy patterns into her clit. Her body rolled with each of his thrusts and her hip caught on the head of his cock.

He groaned, his hips moving faster, “Fuck Sansa, I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Look at me.” She panted and he pulled up to look at her. His eyes were locked on hers as she squeezed him and said, “Cum for me Sandor.”

His eyes rolled back, his fingers and hips becoming jerky in their movements and she felt warm wetness on her thigh. The look of utter bliss on his face made her stomach clench and she felt closer than ever. She moaned, her hips taking over the rhythm as his hand stopped moving and he slumped next to her. She was frustrated, her release farther away but still she grinned, utterly joyous at his release.

He breathed heavily against her for only a few seconds before his fingers started moving again, building speed quickly.

“Your turn.” He huffed heavily in her ear, “Wanna see you cum on my fingers. You want me don’t you, Sansa? Want my fingers? My cock?”

His words were causing her to tailspin and she moaned his name. His hand came away from her breast to cover her mouth and she let out the louder moan she had been holding back, glad to be muffled by his big hand. “You want this whole castle to know that you’re mine? They all know I’m yours. Only you who doesn’t. Don’t you know, Little Bird? Don’t you know how fucking gone I am for you? I’d do anything for you. Anything. It’s fucking madness. You own me girl. And now. I’m going to own you.” A second finger entered her, just as he nipped her ear again and she was gone, thrust into a release ten times the one she had had before. She bit his hand to keep from calling out and heard his hiss in her ear.

The thrusts of his fingers didn’t stop outright, instead he slowed them, pulling one finger out then the other gently, finally sliding his thumb off her clit. He rolled onto his back in a huff. Sansa breathed shallowly as she felt her body spasm with aftershocks. Thoughtlessly she ran her hands up and down her body, enjoying the over sensitized sensation. She paused when she reached her hip and was met with wetness.

“Sorry.” He muttered, moving to roll off the bed.

She gripped his arm, “No! Don’t go. Please, don’t go.”

He turned towards her, his unused hand brushing the hair from her face as he bent over, “Not going anywhere, Little Bird. Just grabbing my shirt to wipe that off.”

She let him go with a blush, feeling stupid. He bent to grab his shirt and she enjoyed watching his back curve. He came back, wiping her hip before folding the shirt and gently swiping it between her legs. She jerked and saw the small smile that passed over his face. He folded the shirt again, wiping his fingers and then cock on it. She spent a moment gazing at it. It still looked a little hard but not as much so. It still looked big.

“Stop looking or you’ll make it hard again.” His voice sounded almost playful.

Sansa grinned as she pulled the blanket up over them. Without thought, she rolled until she was lying on his chest, a hand over his heart. She felt him freeze but didn’t dare move. She liked this position; warm, comfortable and safe in his arms. Slowly his arms wrapped around her and she let out a contented sigh, “Thank you, Sandor.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, “Don’t waste your pleasantries on me, Little Bird.”

She just smiled, closing her eyes, “Good night.”

She was asleep before he responded with a whisper soft, “Good night, Sansa.” As he ran his hands through her hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	6. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's education is put on hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter without smut. Sansa doesn't really like it either.

Sansa was proud to discover that she was able to reach a peak by herself after that night with images of the two of them. Her imagination was now able to go farther. She often focused on the kissing. She imagined what it would feel like to kiss him, she wanted too. She was planning on asking him about it the next time he came. She was giddy to see him again, to feel him again. The peak she was able to give herself paled in comparison to the ones she remembered with him.  
Unfortunately, two nights later, her moon blood arrived. She was amazed how even now, with her position almost nothing at all, the news of her moon blood still spread like wildfire every month. What did they think; she was suddenly going to be with child? What motive did she have? She couldn’t be angry though, because it brought Sandor to her bed, his hand placed firmly over her roiling stomach. She was glad to note, there was no space between their bodies now and the heat of his chest against her back soothed her infinitely.

She had asked if he wanted her to do anything but he had shot her down point blank. She hadn’t asked about the kiss. She didn’t want her first kiss to be while she had her moon blood. But something was still different. From the very first night, they began to talk. He told her of his travels and his different battles though she suspected he edited much out. She told him of her family and the things that used to make her happy. One somber night, she talked of her regret for not being closer to Arya and Jon. He returned the favor by telling her of his mother and sister, the only people he had ever loved.

She had cried for him and when she rolled over to bury her face in his chest she glimpsed his own teary eyes. He wasn’t sad for his own life; she knew if he had ever cried for himself, those tears had long since dried. Instead, she suspected he was emotional because no one had ever cried for him. She would, she would give him everything he had never had. She felt so deeply for him, though she wouldn’t yet acknowledge what those feelings were.

Her moon blood ended and she slept alone for two nights. She didn’t have any reason to know but she was antsy on the third day, feeling like tonight was the night. She had to find subtle ways to fidget as she sat in court that morning and was relieved when the doors swung open so she had something to focus on. The king entered with his usual pompousness followed by his ever present guard. Sansa was careful how she looked at him. She spared him a glance when he entered and exited, which she could play off as watching the king. From there she would routinely scan the room, acting bored. She was sure no one noticed that he was always in her line of sight as her eyes swept the room. Joffrey always looked like a child but he was simply dwarfed next to Sandor. She wondered if he knew. Surely Sandor would not be at his side if he did. Then again, there was no denying he was the fiercest member of the king’s guard and people would probably find the king dim to not have that one at his side.

Sansa kept her eyes roving but her mind filled with the image of him naked. He always looked so fierce and yet he was so gentle. She remembered the way he brushed the hair from her face and trailed his fingers down her body. She gave herself a mental slap. It would do her no good to think like that here. She tuned back in to the proceedings at the perfect time.

Joffrey lounged back in the throne he had done nothing to earn after dismissing some peasant begging for something they had not received, “I think I will leave today for a hunt. I shall be gone no longer than a week, no need to worry.”

Cersei, sitting at his side fluttered a little. No one noticed and Sansa wondered not for the first time if Cersei was really as fierce as she claimed to be with such an obvious weakness. The only way she could be truly fierce was if her children no longer existed, “My darling, surely you should not hunt at this time. There are sure to be predators as well as prey in the forests.”

Joffrey spared his mother a passing sneer, “Nonsense. I will take my guards.” Sansa was almost glad as Joffrey swung a hand towards Sandor so she had a reason to look up to him, “Besides, the Hound will scare anything that thinks to come at us.”

Sandor’s eyes flicked to her for no longer than a second but she knew it was more than a passing glance. He wouldn’t be in her bed tonight. She hid her hands beneath her skirts and balled them into fists. The crowd laughed at the king’s words but she wasn’t able to manage it. It didn’t matter, people would assume she was terrified of the Hound and that is why she did not laugh. They wouldn’t know that she wanted to scorn them all for not seeing the man beneath the scars. She looked away but she saw his eyes flick to her again in her periphery. It was funny how she could simply feel his sparkle of amusement at her reaction. Equally funny that he felt her reaction though she showed no sign of it.

“Isn’t that right dog?” Joffrey said.

Sansa blinked, seconds felt like eternities when they were focused on each other. Sandor gave a curt nod and Joffrey smiled triumphantly at his mother. He looked like such a child, proud he had managed to convince his mother to give him cake for dessert when it had always been planned. Fool.

“And perhaps when we return, I’ll reward my guards with a trip to the brothel, any woman you want.” The crowd tittered, Trant gave a lascivious grin and Sandor gave another nod.

Sansa felt sick. She could just imagine Joffrey lining up girls for him to pick. He would have to pick one. It would be an insult to the king if he did not. And he would have to bed her; word would spread if he didn’t. A group of women rose to exit into the gardens and Sansa rushed to join them. She didn’t want to look at him anymore, afraid she may cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	7. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa learns that kissing isn't just two mouths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience, we're now back with smut!

In the week they were away, Sansa felt her emotions roll in every direction. She tried her best not to think about him at all which of course was impossible. She sighed as she made her way to the kitchen to find an afternoon meal. Her maid brought her breakfast and supper but she was responsible for this one. It had been so strange at first, a side effect of being demoted from captive to prisoner but she had always found glee in the slips of conversations she caught from the servants in the kitchen as they paid her no mind.

“I hear a squire was sent back today. The hunting party is to return tonight.” A maid was saying when Sansa entered.

She instantly slowed her pace as a seamstress replied, “Do you think they will head right to the brothel?”

The group of women eating at the table all gave a collective shiver. One girl leaned forward, “I hear the women there call Meryn Tiny Trant.”

They all fell into raucous laughter and Sansa couldn’t help a small smile. “Poor girl that he chooses.” One of them said still, laughing.

The cook, a heavy woman who bustled about the kitchen waved a spoon at them, “I’d rather deal with Tiny Trant than the Hound. I imagine any woman would choke on whatever he’s got beneath those breeches.”

All eyes grew round with horror. Sansa left quickly, the blush hot on her cheeks. She thought over their words as she retreated to her room. A woman would choke? Why would a woman have her mouth on his cock? The image of herself bent over his length spread warmth throughout her body. Is that a common thing women did? Did men put their mouths on women’s cunts too?

Sansa squeezed her thighs at the image of Sandor’s face buried between her thighs, his hair falling over her. She shivered but shook her head, how could she think of such things when they hadn’t even kissed? She wanted his mouth on her own before it moved to other places. None of this mattered anyway because tonight Sandor would bed some whore and she wasn’t sure she would be able to even look at him after that.

She retired to bed early, curled in on herself and feeling as if her only happiness had been sapped away. She lay there for hours, constantly wondering if this was the moment Sandor was choosing a woman. If he would choose one that looked like her. Did that make her feel good or bad? Mostly, she just felt hollow. The door creaked open and Sansa sat up.

The sight of him took her breath away. He was so handsome, so strong in his stance and sure in his movements. The door clicked shut and he quietly barred it before turning around. When he saw her awake he smiled and shook his head.

“You ought to be asleep. It’s late.”

Sansa blinked as he approached and sat on the edge of the bed, bending over to untie his shoes, “What are you doing here?”

He jerked at her words and threw an unhappy look over his shoulder. She shook her head, “Shouldn’t you be at the brothel?”

Sandor seemed to sag as he finished taking off his boots and lying back so he was propped up on the pillows, half sitting up, “Few well placed comments and the king is spending the night with every woman in the place.”

Sansa made a disgusted face before it turned to one of awe, “You are the cleverest man there is!” she said, shocked; realizing just how many times he had outsmarted everyone around him without them even knowing he had done it. He had done it to her multiple times. She would have to look at for that now.

She grinned as he chuckled, tucking a strong arm behind his head in that position that made her mouth water. He looked over at her lazily and she felt herself grow just a little wet, “Not sure a clever man would spend a week trying to figure out how to run away from a free trip to a brothel.”

Sansa opened her mouth then closed it and frowned. She had caught that he had spent the week thinking about it, surely just for her comfort. But she was more mortified by the words she had caught herself from saying. She had almost said something like, ‘I’ll make sure it was the right decision’ or ‘a clever man would choose it if he had a woman starving for him.’ A whole number of dirty, forward words that she would never have even thought to say just a little while ago.

Sandor tipped her chin with his forefinger, bringing her out of her head, “It was a joke, Little Bird,”

Sansa blinked, “Yes—I” she cleared her throat and shook her head, “Was your hunting trip successful?”

Sandor snorted and laid back. She fought the urge to pounce on him, straddle him and take her first kiss. “That boy is a loud fucker, scared away every smart animal the moment we entered the forest.” Sansa grinned at his casual tone, “We managed to find one deer, had a limp. Killed it.” Sandor looked at her and gave her a sarcastic look. “The king and I both shot. His arrow went straight through its neck. Mine hit a tree a few yards away.”

Sansa giggled, knowing the true story instantly, “I didn’t know you could shoot.”

“Aye, Little Bird, I can shoot. Was just a hunter before I was a soldier.” He sighed and closed his eyes, “Your week go well?”

Sansa bit her lip; this conversation was so normal, so comfortable. It made her want him more. She bit her lip, “I overheard the servants speaking today.”

Sandor opened one eye and squinted at her. She nodded, “they said Meryn is called Tiny Trant at brothels.”

Sandor fell into a fit of laughter and she allowed it, smiling at him for long minutes. “They spoke of you too.”

Sandor’s laughter died down, his face darkening. She hurried on, “They said a woman would choke on what was in your breeches.”

A slow almost predatory smile spread across his face. Sansa raised an eyebrow, she had not expected that reaction, “They were all horrified at the thought.”

Sandor let out a huff of laughter, “Aye, they would be. But whores tend to like to choke.”

Sansa mouth dropped open in shock, “What?”

Sandor laughed again, she liked his laugh. He shrugged, “Maybe they like it. I expect if they choke on a cock it means they won’t have to endure a man rutting into them.” He glances over at her, “men don’t usually bother making a whore feel good. Not the point.”

Sansa let out an audible “ugh” and he laughed. She pursed her lips, “But you do.”

He eyed her again, “Aye, I try to.”

Sansa nodded, “So they don’t?” At his confused look she continued, “They don’t choke on your cock?”

Sandor shook his head and sat up, “Gods, girl, would you stop saying it like that?”

Sansa blinked up at him and he let loose a grudging smile, “I haven’t been to a brothel in months, Sansa.”

Sansa suppressed the shiver at hearing her name and at that information. She looked at him expectantly; he knew what she was asking.

He sighed, drawing a hand over his face before speaking, “I’ve had women’s mouths on me. Yes.”

Sansa pushed away the delectable images flowing through her mind of her mouth on him, “So this is common then?”

Sandor sighed again but she was happy to note he no longer tried to evade her uncomfortable questions, “I can’t imagine many high born ladies do it but it’s certainly common in brothels.”

She eyed him speculatively and he squirmed under her gaze, she liked making him squirm, “Do men do it to women too or is it just for men?”

Sandor’s eyes went dark and he leaned toward her, even just sitting, he towered over her. When he spoke, his voice had slid into that husky rough tone, “This what you been thinking about all night, Little Bird?” He brushed the hair out of her face and her eyes fluttered shut, he dipped to speak directly into her ear, “This why you’ve been awake all night? Who did you think about licking your pretty little cunt, Little Bird?” Her head fell back slightly, ready for a kiss. Surely, he would kiss her now. Instead, he nipped her ear and she shivered but her disappointment rushed in and she pushed him away.

He pulled away instantly, his face closed off to her. She bit her lip, looking away. She wasn’t sure why she suddenly wanted to cry. She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. When she opened them, she stared at him with determination, “Why won’t you kiss me?”

His closed expression fell away to shock, “What?”

She shook her head, her thoughts swirling in a confusing mess, “Do you not want to? Do you not want me like that? Am I just—is this just—”

He stopped her by cupping the back of her neck, “Little Bird, I didn’t think you wanted that.”

Sansa frowned, “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

Sandor shrugged, waving a hand, “I don’t know, I figured you were waiting for your pretty knight. You’re great love or whatever.”

Sansa wanted to say that she had wanted that. That she had found her great love but she didn’t dare tell him if there was even a chance he would run from it and based on that closed off expression just a few moments ago, he would. He wouldn’t believe that she loved him. But she did. She loved him. She opened her mouth, masking her gasp with a shake of her head, “I’m not.”

Sandor let out a huff, “You could’ve asked.”

She shook her head again, “No, that would have been just like kissing you myself.”

He raised an eyebrow, “and that’s bad because?”

She rolled her eyes, “I always imagined my first kiss to be a man kissing me.”

Sandor snorted gently, “Well, I’m sorry, Little Bird, I didn’t know the rules.

Sansa huffed, “Don’t mock—”

Her words were cut off by his lips. His hand on her neck held her to him as his lips molded to hers. She melted into it. She could feel the smoothness of his lips but also the roughness of his scars. She sighed, bringing a hand up to cup his face the burned side.

He made a guttural sound, the hand on her neck raising up to tangle in her hair and the other gripped her waist. Both hands pulled her closer and her body molded against his. His kiss turned rough, every inch of his body pressing firmly against her.

She gasped and he took advantage, sliding his tongue deftly into her mouth tangling with hers. He should have been gentle, soft. She had been expecting that and she knew he would have thought she wanted it. But he was taken over by the moment and she was so happy he was. She moaned, licking against his tongue as fervently as he did. Her arms wrapped around his neck as he leaned forward. His hand moved around her waist to her back, sliding lower and cupping her ass.

He lifted it, pulling her under him as he lay her down. He settled over her and she felt his length against her core. Sansa threw her head back, moaning his name.

He cursed, his mouth sliding down her chin. He mouthed along her neck, his flat hand running down over her clothed body, squeezing her breast before moving lower to grip her hip. She writhed under him, her hands clawing at his shoulders.

He spoke, his lips moving against her neck, “Do you know how much I want to mark you, Little Bird?” His tongue slicked up her neck, “How much I want to make you mine?”

She keened, arching under him, “Do it. Sandor, do it.”

His hands moved back up her, dragging her shift up to her thighs but pulling the top down to reveal more of her breast. He pulled up to look at her, shaking his head, “Can’t. They’ll see.”

She let out a soft sob, pulling his head back to her. She could taste his grin, she liked it. She nipped at his lip and he growled, thrusting against her once. He pulled away in surprise and she grinned, “But I can mark you.”

He cursed, sitting up enough to pull his shirt over his head. She moaned, running her hands up and down his chest. “You can mark me, Little Bird. But not until I’ve licked every.” He bent over her, his nose bumping hers, “Inch.” He nipped her lip and she gasped, “Of you.” He pushed her shift farther up her body.

Sansa moved quickly, lifting her hips to move her shift up before sitting up, pushing Sandor away in the process. He sat back, laughing slightly as he watched her rip her shift up and over her head, throwing it away. As soon as she was bare, her embarrassment kicked in and she blushed, folding her arms over her.

Sandor shook his head, pulling her arms away from her, “Damn.” His fingers brushed along her ribs, “So pretty.” His hand trailed down, drawing a circle on her thigh, “Why don’t you wear under things at night, Little Bird?”

Sansa squirmed, “Sandor,” she panted.

Sandor touched her shoulder gently and she lay back down but he didn’t follow her. He continued to gaze at her, “You’ve been wanting me to touch you all this time, haven’t you?”

His words made her think. She hadn’t stopped wearing under things until she came to King’s Landing. And she had known he would come, what the lack of barrier could mean even before she really knew. She wondered if he was right, if she had always wanted him, from the very beginning.

She lifted her hand and he lowered so she could touch his face, the unburned side this time. He closed his eyes, turning his head to kiss her palm. His hand came up to hold hers and he pulled it away, kissing her wrist. She sighed as he continued, kissing her forearm, then her elbow, then upper arm. He bent over her, kissing along her collarbone.

Her hands ran up his bare back, pulling his head once again to her lips. He kissed her gently this time, and they savored each other as their lips and tongues moved in a slow dance.

“Sansa.” He breathed against her lips before moving lower.

His hand came up to cup one breast, as he breathed over the other. Her breath stuttered out as she glanced down at him. He was looking at her and he grinned as he finally lowered his head, circling his tongue around her nipple. She felt her body melt into the bed as she let out a long groan.

His mouth continued down her body, his hand coming up to replace his mouth on her breast. When he circled her navel this time it was with his tongue and she jerked.

“You know,” he murmured, running his lips back and forth along her waist just under her navel, “No one would see if I marked you here.”

Sansa’s body rolled with pleasure. She felt his smile a second before his lips latched on to the hollow spot beside her hip and sucked. She gasped only to moan as his fingers came down to run up and down her folds. He nipped at the spot he had sucked, before laving his tongue over it. She moaned as his mouth moved to the other hollow and began again, a finger slowly entering her.

When he had finished there, he dragged his tongue down along the seam of her thigh. She bucked and he chuckled, his thumb coming up to part her folds. She felt his breath over her most intimate area but he didn’t move. She groaned and looked down. He was watching her, “Tell me who you want here, Sansa.”

“You!” she panted quickly, it was the easiest question to answer.

He worked his jaw, his bottom lip rubbing against her. She moaned and he spoke again, “Tonight?”

Sansa shook her head side to side and as she spoke his tongue gave one slow lick up her center, “Always!”

He groaned, “Taste so sweet. Just like I knew you would.”

His tongue began to work, lapping at her over and over again and she moaned and arched. His finger began to move in and out as he pulled away, gasping a breath. “Tell me, Sansa. Tell me who can make you feel like this.”

Sansa moaned. His fingers moved as his tongue circled her clit. Her hands found his hair and she tugged, “Sandor. It’s you. It’s only you. Gods, it’s always been only you.” Sandor groaned, his mouth and fingers speeding up, “Feels so good. Can’t feel good without thinking about you.”

Sandor began to suck on her clit and she felt her body bow off the bed as her release rushed through her, harder again than before. He worked her through it, until she was pushing his head away.

Sandor rose back up over her and stared down at her. He wiped his mouth before ducking to kiss along her neck. She let out a soft moan, turning her head and opening her eyes lazily to look at him.

He smiled at her, that same look of affection in his eyes. She cupped his cheek again, and he bent to give her a soft kiss. He lay back, pulling her over and onto his chest. She hummed, nuzzling into his chest, her hand running slowly back and forth.

As she came back to herself, she noticed his breath coming in pants, and his body almost jerked with every move of her hand. She bit her lip, beginning to drag her had up and down instead of side to side. She was rewarded with a low groan, “Little Bird.”

She looked up at him, her head still on his chest, “You’ll have to teach me.”

He pulled in a shaky breath, his hand covering hers and pulling it lower until it cupped him, “You already know how.” He squeezed her hand, causing her to squeeze him. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

She shook her head, sitting up and beginning to tug at his laces, “I want to do more.”

Sandor lifted his head, looking into her eyes. After a moment, he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, “You don’t have too, baby.”

Her hands had finished unlacing his pants and she tugged. He took the hint, lifting his hips and she slid them off his legs, throwing them away. She eyed his length. Was it strange that she had missed it? Her hand slid up his thigh and she continued up his shaft, gripping it lightly. She pulled it so it stood straight up, “I want to do more.”

She moved her hand up and down and watched a bead of seed appear. She bent down, her hair falling around her. She stuck out her tongue and licked it. It tasted strange, a bit salty but she didn’t really mind. The gasping sound he made however was incredibly gratifying.

She turned to look at him, “Okay?”

He nodded, staring at her. His hands came up and gathered her hair in his hand so it wouldn’t block his view. She looked at him, eyes wide, “What now?”

“Lick it. Circle the head.” He was speaking in a breathy, quiet tone.

She nodded, enjoying the slight twinge in her hair as he held her in place. She bent over him again and did as he said. First, she dragged her tongue along the head before circling it. She brought her tongue back up, dipping it into the slit at the top.

He groaned, his head falling back again, “Good. Good baby girl, keep going.”

She preened at his praise before bending and dragging her tongue up his entire length. He made a choked sound in response. She thought for a moment before just going for it, bringing the head into her mouth.

His hand tightened in her hair, “Suck it.”

She liked the edge in his voice, wanted more. She sucked, managing to roll her tongue at the same time.

“Sansa,” he dragged her name out, his hand running through her hair, his palm cupping her head as he gasped, “More. If you can.”

Sansa took a breath through her nose before doing as he said, sucking him farther into her mouth. The head hit the back of her throat and while she didn’t choke, she suddenly understood the possibility. Her hand came up to grip the part of his shaft that wasn’t in her mouth. She frowned internally, her eyebrows furrowing, wishing she could take more.

“S—S’ok” he panted, “just move—move your hand too.”

She hummed and his hips jerked. Her head moved with him and she was proud that she didn’t choke. His hand gripped her neck as she moved her hand and instinctively moved her head up and down too.

“Fuck.” He ground out, “Fuck. Yes. Don’t stop.” His hips were twitching and his hand moved back to grip her hair.

His hand spasmed, tightening in her hair and she moaned, surprised by how much she liked that feeling.

He gasped and she opened her eyes to look up at him. “You—you like that?” his voice sounded wrecked.

She blinked slowly, fluttering her eyelashes and nodded as she moved up and down again. His hand tightened again and her eyes fluttered shut as she moaned low.

He cursed again, guiding her head up and down once before waiting, looking at her. She hummed, nodding again. Sandor bit his bottom lip as he began to move her head up and down him, slowly grinding his hips too. Sansa reveled in the sounds he made, reveled in her ability to turn this large, hulking man into a moaning mess. She especially reveled in the fact that it was her name spilling from his lips.

She could feel his rhythm becoming messy and she took over, moving her head up and down faster, twisting her hand with every stroke.

“Sa—Sansa. Stop. I’m gonna—I’m gonna cum.” He was almost whimpering.

She arched an eyebrow, wasn’t that the point? She heard his huffed laugh turn into a groan as she didn’t stop, “You want my seed in your mouth, girl? Pull off.”

Sansa’s unused hand gripped his thigh, she wanted that. She really wanted that. He moaned her name as he realized that she wasn’t stopping. She curled her nails into his thigh and he was done. He let out a muffled shout and she felt her mouth fill with the warm salty fluid. Not sure what to do, she swallowed it before licking him clean.

She sat up and smiled. His body was jerking through aftershocks, his eyes closed and his head thrown back. She raked her eyes down his body, satisfied in more ways than one. I love you.

She didn’t say it but she was definitely thinking it. He slowly cracked his eyes open and blinked at her before glancing down at himself. His eyes moved back up to her and his hand came up, his thumb brushing along her chin. He looked down and she followed his gaze, his seed. She felt herself turn red as she wiped her mouth quickly.

“Where’d it go?” he asked stupidly.

Sansa frowned, “Where’d what go?”

“My seed.” Sandor said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sansa blinked, “I swallowed it.”

His eyes went wide, “You what?!”

Sansa’s own eyes widened as her hand came up to her mouth, “Was I not supposed to? Is it bad?”

Sandor shook his head before launching himself at her, pulling her mouth to his. Sansa squeaked then giggled into the kiss.

“You.” He murmured, pressing another kiss to her, “Are the most.” Another kiss, “amazing woman” kiss, “to ever exist.”

She moaned, slicking her tongue into his. He pulled her close but there was no need, not anymore. There was just affection, the pure enjoyment of being close. The kiss slowed and Sandor lay back down, pulling her with him. She smiled, her hand on his chest. She pulled away slowly and they smiled at each other for long moments before she moved down to lie on his chest. She was asleep almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	8. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets comfortable and the world just can't have that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, no smut.

They fell into a pattern, touching, kissing, or licking every night he came to her. On her moon blood, he would kiss her gently and hold her. She was blissfully happy. Then the world exploded.

As she sat with the women in the cellar, she felt her body shake. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t. She loved him and he didn’t even know. No. She stood frantically. He couldn’t die. He had to know. She snuck out of the cellar but where to go. She couldn’t very well go into battle. Her room. She would be able to see the battle from her room. She could see him. She just wanted to see him.

She raced into her room, barring the door behind her before running to the window. She felt her entire body sag. She couldn’t see anything. Not a damn thing. She slapped the stone, “Dammit!”

The chuckle made her jump, “Not very polite, Little Bird.”

Sansa spun on her heel and actually let out a cry. She ran to him, running her hands all over him, “Are you okay? Oh gods, are you hurt?”

Sandor’s smile was tired and a bit crazed but he shook his head, “I’m alrig—”

She cut him off with her lips, holding his face in both hands. Sandor let out a breath, pulling her closer. She didn’t even mind the hard armor cutting into her skin.

“Get me out of here.” She said at the same time he said, “I gotta get you out of here.”

They both smiled and then she was moving, running to her bed to grab a bag she had hidden under it. Sandor looked at her suspiciously. She smiled, “It was only a matter of time, right? You wouldn’t have let me get hurt.”

He gripped her hip, pulling her close and giving her a searing kiss before grabbing her arm and rushing out the door.

Sansa changed into pants and folded her hair up into a cap while Sandor packed a bag and readied Stranger. She sat in front of him and they rode out of King’s Landing.

They rode for two days straight, stopping only to relieve themselves. They ate the provisions Sandor had managed to steal and Sansa managed to sleep fitfully from time to time. She wasn’t sure how Sandor managed to do it. Then she realized he wasn’t doing it well when he began to sag enough that Stranger veered from their path.

She forced him to rest every night after that. That’s when she began to notice the change. Sandor lay next to her as always, but he did nothing more. He wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’t kiss her. She managed to be exhausted for the first few nights but later, she would reach for him, lean in to him and he would actively pull away with a grunt here or there. Maybe it was just the journey. She didn’t know where they were going, she assumed north but they had been traveling for days.

She sighed, petting Stranger’s nose. She had found that her fear of horse was much like her fear of the man and once one had faded, the other had as well. Stranger may look fierce, even act fierce but he was really a sweetheart, nosing at her lovingly, “He’s exhausted Sandor. We need to stop for a few days, let him rest.”

Sandor grunted, “no towns.”

Sansa nodded, she understood. She may be able to hide herself but Sandor was simply too recognizable, “Where are we anyway?”

Sandor made a non-committal sound and Sansa grinded her teeth. She thought about her studies; her septa had taught her geography. She counted the days they had been riding and tried to visualize the maps in her head. “If we are near Broths, there should be hunting cabins all over the forest. It’s how they make their way. They should be empty at this point in the season.”

Sandor looked at her for a long moment before nodding. They rode on for two more days before they found one such empty cabin. Sansa relished the sight of a bed and a fire place. She was happy that there was a stable and she even found a blanket to lie over Stranger. When she turned back to Sandor she caught him watching her, the fond look on his face. She took a step towards him, feeling warm, only to watch him turn on his heel and nearly run into the forest with some comment about getting food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


	9. The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa finally tells Sandor. Everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final installment. I hope you have enjoyed. Thank you for coming this far. Oh and yes, you better believe I'm going to smut it up for you.

Sansa was pacing the cabin by the time he got back. He astutely ignored her as he went about butchering the small animals he had managed to catch for them. They ate in painful silence and Sansa managed the courage to try one last time. She reached out and placed a hand on his knee, saying his name softly.

He stood immediately, turning away from her and heading for the door. She felt her anger rise, “What is going on Sandor Clegane? You tell me right now.”

Sandor only grunted. Sansa folded her arms, “more than a grunt. You won’t touch me, talk to me. You barely even look at me. Have I done something wrong?”

Sandor seemed to sag but when he turned around there was fire in his eyes, “What do you want from me, Little Bird? Play your pretty knight?” He reached out and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it and pulling her close. “There’s no one here, Little Bird. No one to stop me. Nothing keeping me from sticking my cock so far into you, you scream my name.”

Sansa began to pant. She knew he was trying to scare her, knew this was still him pushing her away. It didn’t work. All his rough words only made her want him more. She tried to show the lust in her eyes and spoke low, “Then why don’t you?”

Sandor hesitated, his eyes straying down to her lips before he made a disgusted sound and pushed her away. He took a few steps away, as far as he could get from her in this tiny cabin, “You aren’t a prisoner anymore, Bird! When we get where we are going, you’ll be a highborn lady again. Your virtue will matter. I won’t be good enough to lick your boots much less your cunt.”

Sansa suddenly had an image of Arya, berating her parents about the injustice of being a woman. How unfair it was that all of her decisions, the ones that mattered at least were made for her. Sansa sent up another prayer of forgiveness. She had never appreciated her sister. She summoned the boldness of Arya and let out a dry laugh. Sandor tensed at the sound, eyeing her suspiciously.

She looked him in the eye and spoke with firm determination. “There are two places we could go. We could sale away from here, go to a new land where no one would know who either of us were and no one would give a damn about you sticking your cock in me. Or we could go north. Join my brother and this war. I’ll do all I can and I will win. And then I will decide who I let lick my cunt. If I choose you, that is my decision. If you don’t want me anymore, fine. But don’t stand there and protect my fucking honor like some knight. It doesn’t suit you.” She tried to be as crass and crude as possible, tried to show him that they were equal, that they deserved each other.

Before she could blink she was against a wall, his mouth nearly bruising her own with his ferocity. One hand gripped her hip while the other tangled into her hair. She moaned lowly, licking into his mouth. He yanked her hair, pulling her head back to look at him, “When did your mouth get so filthy, woman?”

She felt her stomach clench. He’d called her woman, not girl. That had to mean something. She grinned at him, “After I sucked your cock.”

He groaned, “Fuck Sansa,” He bent back to her, nipping her lip and sucking on her tongue. He pulled away, gasping but only to duck and lick down her neck. His hands moved to her pants, yanking on the laces, “Fucking own me, you know that?” He bit her neck and began sucking harshly.

She felt her knees weaken, “Yes” she hissed, running her hands everywhere she could, pulling him ever closer to her, wanting the mark he was putting on her.

His hands yanked her pants down and he knelt fast, mouthing at her thighs as he pulled her pants to her ankles, “Whatever you want. I’ll give it to you.”

Sansa leaned her head back, running her hands through his hair, “I only want you.” She whined.

Sandor groaned, licking a flat stripe up her folds while his hands came up her thighs before running back down to grip her ass. Sansa tried to spread her legs but was prevented by her pants. His tongue began to work her over while a hand trailed back down her leg and hooked around her ankle, pulling it up. He yanked the pant leg off and pulled her leg to rest over his shoulder. The new position caused her to shout.

Sandor turned his head and bit her thigh, making her jerk, “Fuck, I want to be inside you.”

Sansa bucked her hip, “Yes. I want it. I want you Sandor.”

He returned to her folds, spearing his tongue into her before shaking his head. Her breath stuttered even as he pulled back, “I can’t, Little Bird. I can’t.”

Sansa whimpered, “Please.”

His hand squeezed her ass sharply and he turned to bury his face in her lifted thigh, “Don’t beg me, Sansa. Don’t.”

Sansa hummed, pushing the hair out his face so she could look down on him, “I want to, Sandor. I want to give you everything. Please” she whispered the plea.

The air changed. Sandor moved slowly, pulling her leg off his shoulder but holding it against his waist. He stood slowly, hooking her other leg around him and lifting her into his arms. Sansa was quiet, gazing at him with her arms around his neck. She did manage to kick off the pants though.

Sandor sat on the bed, his eyes never leaving her. He drew his hands slowly up her thighs, her hips, and then up her waist, dragging her shirt up and over her head. It knocked off the cap and her hair spilled down her shoulders. Sansa could barely breathe, his eyes held that look of awe as he gazed at her. He gently tossed the shirt away, dragging his fingertips down her body. He leaned back slightly, drawing light circles around her nipples. Sansa moaned, throwing her head back. He brushed her hair off her shoulders, his fingers lingering on the mark he put on her neck.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” His voice was whisper soft.

Sansa pulled her head back slowly, her hand coming up to touch his face. She shook her head, “Sandor” she breathed softly.

He kissed her palm before leaning forward, placing his forehead against hers. His fingers drew along her hips before moving down to lightly circle her clit. Her hands gripped his shoulders and she began to slowly move her hips, whimpering when she felt his hard length beneath her.

Sandor let out a sigh, pulling her closer and holding her hips against his. He ground his hips up slowly, lifting his head to kiss her languidly. She hooked her elbows behind him, her fingers running up through his hair. She tried to move her hips faster, tried to speed the kiss but he was so thoroughly in control and she simply couldn’t. When he pulled away, the sound of their lips parting felt loud in her ears. He leaned back to take his own shirt off and Sansa whimpered, drawing her hands down his chest.

His hands drew up and down her back, caressing her with such reverence she felt tears prick in her eyes. She rolled her hips and watched his eyes flutter closed, “Sandor. I want—”

“I know, Little Bird.” He murmured, dipping to kiss her neck, “But I’m going to take my time with you. You deserve it to be perfect. And I can’t lose control, can’t spill inside you.”

“You’ll make it perfect.” She said with utter confidence.

Sandor snorted, shaking his head, but he held her close and turned to lay her down, hovering over her. He bent to kiss her again but she stopped him with a hand on his chest, “Sandor.” He went to pull off her completely so she gripped his neck, keeping her eyes on his, “I love you.”

Sandor stopped breathing and she felt the tension pull his body taught. She smiled softly, keeping her eyes on him. He had to know. He had to understand. “I love you. You aren’t going to be the first man. You are going to be the only man.” She shook her head, tears spilling down the sides of her face as she finally let out all she felt, “I’ll spend my life with you or I’ll spend it alone. I don’t care if you spend inside me. To have a child with you would only bring me joy.”

She watched the tears form in his eyes, “Sansa,” his voice broke on the word.

Sansa locked her ankles together and pulled his hips towards hers. He settled against her and his mouth opened but he shook his head before burying it in her shoulder. She felt his body shudder, and felt wetness on her shoulder.

She smiled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and holding him close. “Sansa.” He muttered, kissing her shoulder, “Sansa” he said again, turning to kiss her neck. He kept saying her name, like a prayer as he kissed along her jaw and then over her whole face.

When he kissed the tip of her nose, she giggled, “Does that mean you love me too?”

He pulled away, joy on his face and the awe that much brighter as he grinned down at her. He shook his head and she felt a single thread of panic streak through her. It disappeared as he propped up on his elbow, his hand sliding down her cheek. “You asked me once why I came to your room at night.”

She nodded, confused at this turn in conversation but allowing it, “You said you didn’t know.”

He nodded then shrugged, “I just needed to be near you, something so perfect and pristine. It made me feel like my soul wasn’t so black.”

She opened her mouth to respond but he shook his head. She closed it, “I didn’t love you.” Sansa frowned and he smiled, “I was obsessed with you.” His finger traced her lips, “I’m still obsessed with you. But it’s different now.”

Sansa held her breath, “You have all of me, Little Bird. My entire life is yours, body and soul.” He shook his head, “I love you so god damned much, Sansa.”

The sound she let out was half laugh, half sob and he matched it. They crashed together. Their feelings so deep, the passion was electric. They moved together, their bodies sliding against one another but he was still wearing his pants and she had to pull away, gasping as she clawed at his ass, trying to get him to understand what she wanted.

He chuckled deeply, the sound running through her causing her body to jerk in pleasure. He pulled off her, standing though she reached for him, whining, “My fierce Little Bird.”

She shook her head, “No.”

The hands on his laces froze as he frowned down at her. She smiled, “Your wolf.”

He stripped his pants and pounced on her with a growl. She giggled but it turned into a loud laugh as his hands tickled her. She squirmed, thrashing side to side, “Stop.” She gasped, “Stop.”

Suddenly, her hands were pinned above her head and every inch of him touched every inch of her. She gasped at the change. He bent toward her and she lifted to kiss him but he pulled just out of her reach.

“Make me.” He rumbled.

She watched him for a long moment before twitching her wrists. He let them go. She twisted and he moved with her, rolling onto his back as she settled over him.

They both moaned as her folds rubbed along his cock. She rolled her hips, moving along it and threw her head back. He gripped her hips, groaning as her cunt caught against the head of his cock.

“Wait,” he panted, “I need to finger you. Prepare you.”

She moaned, shaking her head. This time when she moved her body, the head caught against her entrance, “Wanna feel all of you.”

His hands gripped her thighs, trying to stop her, “Sansa, it’ll hurt. I’m not a small man.”

She dragged her nails along his chest and he hissed at the sensation, “No you’re not.”

She moved her hips in a circle, the head slipping in just a little. “Sansa,” he moaned, his hand running up her thigh, her waist, squeezing her breast before anchoring against her neck and pulling her down onto him.

He kissed her fiercely. She fell into the kiss but she didn’t fail to notice that leaning over him brought his cock into a better position. She rocked back and the head, already in her slightly moved a little further in.

She gasped against his lips and he rolled quickly, slipping out of her. She whimpered, “No, Sandor.”

“Shh, Little Bird.” He licked her lips, smiling softly, “Little Wolf.”

She hummed and he nuzzled her, sliding a hand between them and positioning against her. Her hum fell into a moan, “You’re sure?”

Sansa closed her eyes, nodding as she ran her hands down his arms. He moved slowly, the head of his cock sliding in and out of her. Her mouth fell open and he bent to nip at her jaw. He slid in a little more so when he pulled back, he didn’t pull out. He moved at this slow pace for a long while before her channel got too tight and he knew it would hurt if he moved anymore. He paused and her eyes opened, connected with his.

“I love you.” He breathed, before giving a harsh thrust, seating himself fully inside her. Her breath choked out and her eyes slammed shut.

He didn’t dare move, though he let his lips slide up and down her neck. After a moment, her hands flexed against him and he lifted to see her smile. She nodded at him, “I love you.”

He questioned her with his eyes and at her second nod he pulled out half way, only to push in again. Sansa moaned. “Okay?”

Her hands flexed on him again, “Yes.” She breathed.

He moved in the same slow thrusts a few times until her hips began to roll. He pulled out farther before slamming back into her, “Sandor!” She gasped loudly.

His grin was feral, as he moved his mouth to her ear, “That’s right, Sansa. I want to hear you scream it.”

He began a rhythm that was not gentle but also not punishing. She loved it, writhing against him as pleasure spiked through her body over and over again. Her nails clawed into him and he grunted in response. At some point, his hand found her clit and she did scream his name. The orgasm whited out her vision but she felt his hips stutter as he shouted her name in return.

When she became aware again, he was still inside her, his face nuzzling her neck. The smile that spread across her face was lazy. He seemed to know because he began to kiss her temple, wiping away tears as he did so.

“Sansa?”

She held him close, turning to kiss him softly. As they kissed, he slowly pulled out of her and she let out a mournful breath. He rolled to the side, his chest pressing against her arm. They kept their faces close as the kiss ended, “You okay?” he murmured.

She nodded, “You?”

His laugh shook her whole body and she felt a pleasant after shock roll through her, “Aye, Little Bird. I’ve never been better.”

Her face turned serious, “You can’t ever leave me, Sandor.”

His face was equally sober as he ran a hand down her body, “Only death could take me from you, Sansa.”

She bit her lip, “Don’t die.”

He chuckled but it fell away quickly, “I’ll try.”

She nodded, tilting her chin to kiss him, “I love you.”

“I love you, Little Bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you! Comments encouraged!


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